<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>not getting younger (and i'm getting nowhere with you) by atsuken</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28808901">not getting younger (and i'm getting nowhere with you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsuken/pseuds/atsuken'>atsuken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>regret has made a home on the roof of my mouth [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, happy wedding bokuaka!, idk my friends want me dead after reading this, kuroken best friendship btw i love them so much, kuroo thinks about what-could-have-beens, light angst?, maybe if he wasn't a coward, the kingdom hearts conversation was purely self-indulgent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:28:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28808901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsuken/pseuds/atsuken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“What’s wrong?” Kenma pushes, again, eyes scanning his body language. “I told you to not drink too much coffee.”</p>
  <p>“Tired,” Tetsurou finally responds, exhaling once again before tying the final knot, securing it in place. “I’m probably more nervous than Bokuto.”</p>
  <p>Kenma swats his hands off the tie, smoothing the creases without looking away from him. “It’s normal. You’ve been up for hours now and you barely slept. You’re not the one getting married though, but our friends,” Tetsurou catches his clipped tone. He lets his palms run over Kenma’s thighs and smiles a little when he shivers. “So there’s no need for us to look so…" Kenma trails off, tucking a strand behind his ear before continuing. "Defeated."</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daishou Suguru/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>regret has made a home on the roof of my mouth [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>not getting younger (and i'm getting nowhere with you)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>if u clicked on this fic bc u found it on the kuroshou tag, please do read the first fic in this series first! to give u a little background of the kenma-akaashi subplot. but if u think u can do without it then do continue :)</p><p>this whole kuroshou brainfart is caused by another hq lyric bot, specifically: "my mouth has failed to say the things i just can't express / afraid to say things I might regret" from i'm sorry by moonstar88. hope u enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tetsurou is running on coffee and sheer willpower to not embarrass him and the man he represents on this special day, the fray in his nerves translating into repeatedly failed tie knots. Kenma says nothing about it, eyes glued on his switch and hasn’t spoken a word to anyone else but him since arriving.</p><p>“Kenma, sit down.” That made his friend look up at him, face contorted in genuine confusion. “Sit down, on that chair.” Tetsurou points at the monobloc two steps behind, and Kenma obliges.</p><p>“You’re towering over me like a full idiot now,” Kenma speaks in a hushed yet harsh tone. “What’s wrong with you?”</p><p>Tetsurou shakes his head and instead crouches right in front of him. He unties Kenma’s necktie for what seems to be the sixth time already and wills his hands to stop trembling too much.</p><p>“Don’t be stupid,” Kenma sighs, pocketing his switch and crossing his arms over his chest now. He’s cleaned himself up, even managed to put on faint lipgloss, with only a few curated strands of hair framing his face. Even so, the scrutiny from his eyes is enough for Tetsurou to stop his movement, hands slowly sliding down Kenma’s red striped tie before releasing a breath.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Kenma pushes, again, eyes scanning his body language. “I told you to not drink too much coffee.”</p><p>“Tired,” Tetsurou finally responds, exhaling once again before tying the final knot, securing it in place. “I’m probably more nervous than Bokuto.”</p><p>Kenma swats his hands off the tie, smoothing the creases without looking away from him. “It’s normal. You’ve been up for hours now and you barely slept. You’re not the one getting married though, but our friends,” Tetsurou catches his clipped tone. He lets his palms run over Kenma’s thighs and smiles a little when he shivers. “So there’s no need for us to look so…" Kenma trails off, tucking a strand behind his ear before continuing. "Defeated."</p><p>Tetsurou laughs. He sees Kenma scowl at him before standing up to brush off his pants.</p><p>“You good?”</p><p>Kenma breaks eye contact. “Nothing I can do about it.”</p><p>Tension wafts in the distance between and the space around them, outside noise temporarily forgotten in the presence of two best friends lamenting their pitiable love endeavors.</p><p>Tetsurou huffs out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, hands on his waist as he stretches his neck to remove the kinks. Jitters in his fingertips make themselves known like during the good old volleyball days; his peak. There’s no need for a best friend who looks one second away from collapsing on the nearest church bench and feels like they’ve ascended in the presence of a God he’s not even sure exists on one of your most important dates, but he’s here, for Bokuto most of all. He’s trying his best to let the smallest of smiles in his arsenal remain on his lips, perfected after dealing with different types of people due to his job. </p><p>When Daishou Suguru, twenty-seven, walks in with his clean cut hair and crisp suit, it reminds Tetsurou of the good old days and he can only force himself to swallow.</p><p>He sees Kenma turn his head to where his eyes are glued. His friend makes a sound of acknowledgment. “Go.”</p><p>“Huh?” He weakly croaks, using what’s left of his willpower to look away in case he makes Daishou melt on the spot. That wouldn’t be a lovely sight for his girlfriend whose waist is wrapped with his arm.</p><p>“I know you want to.” Kenma looks at him with conviction that Tetsurou still has no idea how to thwart after years of friendship. “You need it.” He says a little quieter when he pulls out his switch again, which Tetsurou understands it's the end of their conversation.</p><p>Kuroo Tetsurou, twenty-seven, in his suddenly tight suit, magically grows two left feet when he starts walking towards a long-time friend.</p><p>He’s only doing this because everyone else is preoccupied. And because he’s the <em> best </em> best man Bokuto has (nevermind that he’s the only one; semantics). He forces bile down his throat and doesn’t flank when he’s two steps away from his destination because he knows Kenma wouldn’t talk to him unless he does this. Whatever <em> this </em> is.</p><p>What he wants to say: “You cleaned up well today, as you always do.”</p><p>What he ends up saying: “Who invited the snake with the terrible haircut around here? Should’ve double-checked the invitation list, huh. Might as well refer you to my barber while we’re at it.”</p><p>“I don’t need a haircut talk coming from you, of all people.” Daishou sneers while raising his free hand’s middle finger, ever unattractive, and before he forgets that Mika is right beside him, he turns towards her and mutters an apology. Tetsurou laughs, hoping that they don’t see the ache under all that taunt.</p><p>“I know you have a nasty personality,” She says, voice as delicate as how sharp Daishou is. “I’ve told you about this so many times.”</p><p>“What’s this? Daishou can’t even hide the evil in him around Mika-chan?” Tetsurou fakes a gasp, and he pulls her away from his grasp to twirl her twice. “Have you gotten your immunity shots against Daishou’s illness of being inherently vile, Mika-chan?”</p><p>Mika laughs, gently punching Tetsurou’s arm before straightening the creases of her dress.</p><p>“I will not hesitate to cause a scene right before the wedding starts,” Daishou hisses, and all it takes is for Mika to let go of Tetsurou’s arm to placate him. She taps his shoulder and points. “You guys should catch up. I’ll talk to Iwaizumi-san in the meantime, okay?”</p><p>“I’d rather not,” Tetsurou says just as Daishou pipes up, “I don’t want to talk to this rooster.”</p><p>Mika laughs. “I’d say be nice to each other but,” He takes one good look at Tetsurou, spares him a smile, before looking back at Daishou, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Come see me later.”</p><p>“So,” Daishou rolls his eyes again, arms crossed in front of his chest.</p><p>“So,” Tetsurou parrots, staring at the crease on Daishou’s nose. He feels like he’s eighteen once again, Nekoma and Nohebi meeting each other in hallways less often than Tetsurou would’ve admitted he liked.</p><p>Eighteen, the age when he realizes that the bickering is not just because of familiarity and mutual respect, and instead with something more.</p><p>“I wasn’t kidding about ruining the wedding,” Daishou interrupts his reminiscing, a smirk growing on his lips. “We all know you’re going to take all the blame anyway.”</p><p>Tetsurou laughs, making sure he steps in Daishou’s space enough for him to take a step back. “Between the two of us, you’re the one who looks like a criminal here, in case you forgot.”</p><p>“Ha!” And his smirk is now in its usual form, menacing and unfortunately attractive in equal measure. Eighteen, when Daishou taunts his team and he barely could say anything because he’s fixated on lips that were glistened with spit. “For all I know, you insisted on having me here.”</p><p>Tetsurou takes half a step back, shoulders a little raised. They stay like that, banter familiar yet mellowed down a notch due to age.</p><p>“Well,” He says once he’s regained his composure, hands in his pockets. “And here I was thinking I’m the crazy one for drinking too much coffee.”</p><p>Daishou’s smirk drops as fast as it formed, and Tetsurou tries his best not to glue his eyes to the movement. “Huh, explains the horrible eye bags.”</p><p>It’s his turn to roll his eyes. “You’ve been the fourth person to point that out, might wanna kick your insults up a notch before I start to think you’re growing soft on me.”</p><p>“You’re saying that like I can’t, I don’t know, care for you,” Tetsurou is glued on his feet even when he feels his world spin, and judging by the hesitant eye roll from Daishou, neither of them expected to hear that. He quickly follows up with, “We’re not in high school anymore, Christ. We’re not younger than eighteen anymore. This is me being mature.”</p><p>They’re not younger than eighteen anymore and never getting younger, but Tetsurou still blinks at being presented the rare out-of-character act like he’s twelve and he’s been handed a popsicle after an exhausting practice match.</p><p>And Daishou, his eyes—it’s at times like these where the stubborn hope hanging off of one of Tetsurou’s visceral cavities persists; when he sees uncharacteristic softness in Daishou’s sharp and slanted eyes and thinks of all the <em> maybe</em><em>s</em> and the <em> what-if</em><em>s</em> his brain supplies him with.</p><p>“It’s,” Tetsurou coughs when he hears the crack in his voice, faux composed facade on his face with practiced accuracy. “It’s surprising that you know what that word is. I was convinced you had a hard time remembering the <em> kanji </em> strokes, even.”</p><p>“Very predictable of you to use that against me,” And just like that, the softness doesn’t let itself be known any longer. “Knowing you, who cried because you got one question wrong from that Science quiz that wasn’t even part of our grade, you nerd—”</p><p>“Very honored that you still remember all of my highs and lows, Daishou. Glad to know that I occupy the corners of your hippocampus—”</p><p>“Kuro, Bokuto has been looking for you,” Kenma’s voice makes them break eye contact. Only then does he realize that they’ve been leaning near each other’s faces without realizing.</p><p>(They’re twenty-seven and not getting any younger.)</p><p>“Huh.” Tetsurou coughs, taking a step back to take a deep breath. It’s his best friend’s wedding; there’s no reason for him to dwell on a missed connection that has—should have—expired years ago. When he remembers what Kenma has called him, he opens his mouth in disbelief. “Huh?”</p><p>“I’ve been calling your name, but you’ve been,” Kenma glances at Daishou before rolling his eyes at Tetsurou. “Distracted.”</p><p>“Aw, I know I distract you too easily, Kuroo.” Kuroo grimaces at Daishou, who now has a too proud grin on his face. “Hey, Kozume.”</p><p>Kenma nods, his fingers hovering over the switch buttons to glance at him head to toe <em> twice</em>. If Tetsurou wasn’t feeling like he’s bringing his boyfriend—boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boy space friend, <em> sigh—</em>home to meet his parents, he would have been proud of his best friend for being able to hold eye contact and blatantly show that he’s <em> observing</em>. “Daishou,” he says before diverting his attention back to his game, strands of hair covering his face.</p><p>“That’s my cue to leave,” Tetsurou huffs, patting Kenma’s head. “Don’t miss me too much,” he singsongs, finally flanking and following his best friend after hissing at him for allegedly ruining his hairstyle.</p><p>“Don’t tell me what you tell yourself regarding me,” Daishou adds a lilt at the end, and while it’s a baseless accusation, Tetsurou still finds his organs doing cartwheels.</p><p>“Get yourself together,” Kenma tells him when they see Bokuto, pacing around like he’s ten seconds away from his fifth breakdown of the day. “You’re here for Bokuto.”</p><p>“I’m here for Bokuto,” Tetsurou sighs in defeat, palms rubbing his face. “And you’re here to support your <em> friend </em> who’s also my <em> friend</em>, Akaashi, who is marrying our other <em>friend </em> Bokuto—<em>ough! </em>” He winces, sending Kenma an apologetic smile after being the recipient of a forceful elbow.</p><p>Kenma looks like he’s contemplating spitting on his face. “Don’t be as ugly as your hair.”</p><p>Tetsurou gasps. “Take that back!"</p><p>“I want ice cream.” Kenma deflects.</p><p>"We'll have one later. At the reception, I mean."</p><p>"I want the one from convenience stores."</p><p>“We don’t always get what we want, Kenma, look at you attending the wedding of someone who you hold so dear even after years since your breakup.”</p><p>Before Kenma could respond and destroy him, Bokuto wails his name and runs towards him with his arms outstretched for a hug. He sticks his tongue out at Kenma over Bokuto's shoulders, and Kenma could only scowl.</p><p>Lost in Bokuto’s cologne and pre-wedding worries, time flies in the blink of an eye or two, and the next thing Tetsurou remembers, he’s stumbling while being dragged by the grooms themselves for a group photo.</p><p>"Walk properly," Kenma hisses, clutching his arm like they're twenty feet above the ground. Tetsurou is glad that he cut his fingernails a day ago.</p><p>"I'm trying—"</p><p>"Kuroo! Come on! Everyone is waiting!" Bokuto yells like his arm isn't draped on Tetsurou's shoulder and his mouth isn’t near Tetsurou’s ear. "Smile!"</p><p>"You look like Bokuto and Akaashi—" Atsumu corrects himself. "The Bokutos walked all over your face back and forth twelve times, man." He says after how many group shots, elbow comfortable on Hinata's shoulder.</p><p>Tetsurou rolls his eyes. "Try being somebody's best man then," he wrinkles his nose. "I'd like to see your face, and then come talk to me."</p><p>"There's no use," Sakusa, mask covering half of his face and yet malice in his eyes visible, pipes up. "Miya will always look horrible, with or without a wedding."</p><p>"Hey!" They all snicker, even Kenma who's buried his nose on his game, and Oikawa who just joined the circle. "When my brother gets married, then you bastards will all see!"</p><p>"See that he has a more successful love life than you?" Cue the laughter again, and Atsumu's face contorts into annoyance. "Why don't you get married first, huh?"</p><p>Atsumu sulks, taking a step closer towards Hinata who's busy saying hi to the other attendees like he's the third Bokuto. "Whenever Shou-kun is ready is my cue, of course!" He grins, his arm now around Hinata's shoulders who finally has his attention towards them.</p><p>"Hi everyone!" Tetsurou waves back at him. "Ready for what?"</p><p>"Ready for Miya to trip on his air when he walks down the aisle, that's what." Sakusa mumbles, and while his taunt is appreciated, Tetsurou could feel something underlying with the way he looks away and starts walking away from them with tense shoulders.</p><p>"Oh, fuck off, Omi-kun! Get yourself a boyfriend first and then we'll talk!"</p><p>"What's this talk of boyfriends when it's my wedding, huh?" Bokuto yells, slapping Hinata's and Oikawa's backs with Akaashi in tow. "It's my time to shine!"</p><p>“The stage is all yours, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi taps his husband’s shoulder, prompting him to remove his hands on his friends’ backs.</p><p>“Bokuto-san still?” Oikawa tilts his head. “You’re both Bokutos now, aren’t you, Keiji-chan?”</p><p>Tetsurou sees the way pink blooms on Akaashi’s—Bokuto’s—Keiji’s—<em>whatever</em>, cheeks, and before he could turn his head to Kenma, he feels his grip on Tetsurou’s arm tight and hard enough for him to faintly feel nails on skin. He looks at his best friend who’s curling in on himself, strands of hair obstructing his view.</p><p>“Guys, I—”</p><p>“Kuroo! You better make your best man speech the best!” Bokuto—Koutarou, <em> God</em>, interrupts him, patting his shoulder with too much force. “I can’t wait to hear praises!”</p><p>“Yes, yes, but before that I—” He freezes on his spot when Keiji approaches them, worry visible with his eyes trained on Kenma. While Tetsurou appreciates the concern, his presence is what sent Kenma into a frenzy in the first place, and so he raises a hand to placate him. He doesn’t let everybody else’s confusion stop the smile on his face, the corner of his lips tighter than his genuine smile. “It’s okay. Can Kenma and I go ahead? He’s not feeling well.”</p><p>“It’s, um,” Keiji takes a few steps back, unfocused. “Yes, you may. Sorry for, um, Bokuto-san here.”</p><p>“What does that mean, Keiji?” Bokuto whines just as Atsumu and Oikawa laugh at his face. Tetsurou spares a glance at Hinata who, unsurprisingly, immediately knows what is going on. He nods. Tetsurou nods back just as he drags Kenma away from the crowd and back to their car.</p><p>“Don’t forget to tell everyone about how Keiji fell in love with me at first sight!”</p><p>And tell Tetsurou did, a glass of champagne on his right hand while his left hand grips the lectern like he’s afraid to stagger off the podium.</p><p>“If I remember right, Keiji over here,” With a daunting smirk on his lips, he turns to face the couple seated a few steps away to his left. He meets Keiji's eyes and takes delight in the malice his glare is conveying. Tetsurou shakes his head in amusement before continuing. “Thought of Boku—Koutarou as a star, with his anything but graceful form and eye-grabbing leap, and if that doesn’t tell you anything about how Keiji loves my best friend, then I don’t know what else to tell an audience of roughly around a hundred.”</p><p>Tetsurou ignores Keiji's murderous intent directed solely at him and instead hoots along with the crowd with Koutarou, clapping like there are no tears threatening to escape his eyes, as the instigator.</p><p>“To high school volleyball, practice matches, and training camps,” Tetsurou raises his glass for a toast, exhaustion temporarily forgotten at his married friends’ warm smiles and the audience eyes all trained on him and the words that tumble out of his mouth.</p><p>“To Koutarou’s carefree mindset that makes him soar to the clouds while Keiji's sense of responsibility makes sure he doesn’t fly too close to the sun and get his wings burnt,” He continues, looking back at everyone. He scans the room and sees the same proud smile on his lips plastered on their faces, some wider than his and others accompanied with sniffling.</p><p>“To roads that diverted them from the goal of being together at some point,” Tetsurou’s vision stops at Kenma who has been looking down despite shyly holding his own glass up. He doesn’t move his gaze until Kenma raises his head, years of trying to avoid drawing attention that has conditioned his body to react even to the furthest of stares. He throws a shy smile, bowing his head for a second as an apology before scanning the crowd once again.</p><p>“To missed connections—” Traitorously, he makes eye contact with Daishou just as he delivers the line that weighs on his tongue more than the rest of his speech, his eyes trained for guile now showing nothing but anticipation for his ending words. “That made way for their love to meet in the end no matter what.”</p><p>If it weren’t for Daishou and Mika’s hands most likely intertwined under the table, Tetsurou would have given more meaning to the way his eyes momentarily sombered.</p><p>What he wants to do: Pick apart every movement Daishou makes; watch him as intensely as they used to when they were separated by nothing but a net when standing on the court.</p><p>What he ends up doing: Blink himself out of his deluded reality and raise his wine glass higher, the loud “Cheers!” echoing and being imitated by everyone else.</p><p>After wiping Koutarou’s tears and wishing the newlywed a good night to follow, Tetsurou makes his way to his table, bumping into Osamu and narrowly avoiding spilling his champagne on Oikawa’s suit. The three share lighthearted banter before he’s fully released from everyone else’s grasp, slumping when he finally sits beside Kenma. Nobody told him being the best man included socializing with everybody the moment you as so much brush skins against each other.</p><p>“Where’d you get your wedding speech from,” Kenma asks as he sets his glass on the table after taking a sip. Tetsurou watches him gag quietly and shiver before leaning back and pulling out his switch. “It was good.”</p><p>“Good enough for your standards, Master Kenma?” He taunts, taking a swig of his own drink. The music echoes in his skull like the DJ himself is playing from his brain, but it’s not loud enough to distract him from the incoherent thoughts running in his head.</p><p>“It sounded like dialogue from Kingdom Hearts,” and Kenma leaves it at that. Tetsurou only guffaws at the accusation. He ruffles Kenma’s hair hard enough to make him click his tongue but not deter his concentration from terraforming his entire village all over again.</p><p>“You think I can pass as a Xehanort? Maybe even take Xemnas’ place in the Organization?”</p><p>That does make Kenma look up from his switch, a frown on his lips. “I thought I was the Dark Lord around here.”</p><p>“Well, try and give a best man’s speech at somebody's wedding first, and then we’ll see who qualifies as a Kingdom Hearts character.”</p><p>“Shoyo will make me his, I can tell.” Tetsurou laughs, expresses his gratitude for his best friend for easing up the tension in his shoulders by flicking his forehead. Kenma hisses again, because he’s not above that, and diverts his attention back to his game.</p><p>“You know…” Tetsurou speaks again when he sees the people around the food area decrease. He’s twenty-seven, he knows, and he has made several regrets that he doesn’t want to experience all over again.</p><p>But age never meant maturity as much as it never meant letting go of hopes so easily.</p><p>When Kenma looks up from his switch again after hearing him trail off, Tetsurou swallows his apology but not his pettiness. “You were supposed to be Keiji’s best man. He told me right after Koutarou proposed to him, because you saw parts of him that he never bothered to share with just anyone. Even when you never reached out and continued to ghost him and his other friends.”</p><p>Kenma regards him once, twice, before he sees the fury and pain in his eyes. “Don’t be such a dick just because you're bitter.” There’s venom in his best friend’s words; as it should. Tetsurou wants to feel sorry but he can’t. He follows where Kenma’s eyes are looking, only to see Keiji wipe frosting off of Koutarou’s lips.  Even at this distance, he can’t deny the adoration they have for each other, and for a traitorous second, he thinks of Daishou and his’ <em> what-could-have-beens</em>. If Mika never took him back after their loss. If Tetsurou never thought he had all the time in the world.</p><p>“You don’t think I know that…” Kenma whispers and Tetsurou nearly missed it. He suddenly stands up, his switch gone from his hands and in his pocket, instead replaced with an empty plate. Kenma was never feared for his height when they were still playing volleyball, but like this, he’s domineering. His hurt is less of self-pity and more of bitterness about to be misplaced. Tetsurou won’t even deflect it if it landed on him—when it lands on him. “When Daishou gets married…”</p><p>His eyes looking down on him finish the sentence. Tetsurou has never cursed their friendship until this very moment. He follows Kenma walking towards the food, nevertheless, because it’s his own twisted way of saying sorry. Kenma not saying a word about it is his own way of accepting unspoken apology.</p><p>Just like that, the hostility is at rest. Tetsurou is momentarily distracted with the wide variety of food selection, and just as he debates with himself as to how many tuna fillets he can fit in his plate that would be considered normal by societal standards, someone bumps against him.</p><p>“Sorry, Kuroo-san.” Sakusa bows, polite even when he’s not making eye contact. “Atsumu is the token toddler in a wedding reception.”</p><p>Tetsurou chuckles despite himself. Tuna fillet long forgotten, he takes a few steps away from Sakusa, mindful of his space. “MSBY must be such a delight with him, Hinata, and Koutarou around, I’m guessing?”</p><p>“So delightful I’m about to ask you to swap places with me.” Sakusa deadpans as he surveys the food carefully. Tetsurou watches him put every piece carefully on his plate, like he was already sure what he’s getting before he stood up from his table. He didn’t realize he was staring—and that Kenma already went back to their table, <em> rude</em>—until Sakusa looked at him after putting the tuna fillet Tetsurou was about to get earlier on his own plate.</p><p>It’s Tetsurou's time to say sorry. He tells him this much and Sakusa bows in acknowledgment. “If you’re really sorry, make it up by practicing being an outside hitter, because I can’t take any more of Atsumu and Hinata’s antics.”</p><p>Tetsurou laughs as he waves him goodbye, the observation that Sakusa didn’t include Koutarou shoved at the back of his head. When he returns, Kenma looks like he hasn’t eaten any from what he’s put on his plate and he could only roll his eyes, the nagging uncle in him about to awaken.</p><p>The games right after were enough of a distraction for around two more hours, even if sweat is starting to dry on Tetsurou’s back. The whole floor felt like playing on court, except you’re up against everybody who has little to no regard for camaraderie. He hasn’t laughed this much for a while and definitely hasn’t been this interactive, even cracking a joke with Iwaizumi after accidentally elbowing him during a game of musical chairs and sharing a laugh with Suna who he used to find intimidating due to his eyes.</p><p>"Hey Kenma," he yells, his arm slung on Suna's shoulders. "You and Suna here should be partners for the next game." He snickers, lets go of Suna's shoulders to lean forward and whisper, "He looks like Keiji, doesn't he? It's the hair, I'm telling you..."</p><p>That's when Kenma draws the line and decides he's had enough, walking out with his eyebrows furrowed and the excuse of charging his switch in the car.</p><p>"Is he good, Kuroo-san?"</p><p>"Yeah. He gets tired pretty easily, so." And to that Suna shrugs, stakes his claim on Tetsurou as his partner by pulling him by the arm to join the forming circle in the center.</p><p>He hasn’t felt this exhilarated ever since volleyball, where the ball decided their fates and all they could do was to outsmart the other team before they could do the same to you. Where sweat is not just sweat and instead proof that you’re closer to your dream, whatever it may be.</p><p>Volleyball, the sport that brought him and Kenma together.</p><p>(And Daishou. Daishou before Kenma and Tetsurou never lets himself forget that.)</p><p>In the dimmed neon lights and Western pop music from gigantic speakers echoing in the entire reception area, Tetsurou concedes. There will never be a time where he will be younger to act on what he should’ve done.</p><p>When Keiji tosses the bouquet to Koutarou and Koutarou spikes it for one of the crowd to be at the receiving end, Tetsurou looks away when he sees the assorted flower bunch on Mika’s hands.</p><p>He takes a step back, and two, and three, and until he’s out of there, from the fanfare and the fleeting experience of youth.</p><p>Hopefully, he sees to it even metaphorically.</p><p>He’s brisk walking his way to the vestibule, the isolation awfully comforting enough for him to buffer a thought or two.</p><p>Tetsurou is at the balcony before he even realizes it, the sudden chill of the evening making him hug himself. It must be against the unwritten best man etiquette to leave in the middle of the celebration somewhere, but he indulges himself just this once. It was always rules and paperwork and even being the first step nearly always with his friendship with Kenma anyway, and he thinks this wouldn’t hurt anyone.</p><p>He must’ve been too immersed with how the clouds drift slowly but surely for him to hear footsteps behind him.</p><p>“Oh, not you too,” Tetsurou turns his head to the right and sees Daishou carrying two glasses of champagne. The wicked arch of his brow and sharp snarl on his lips is as daunting and charming as ever. “I was hoping to only have myself as company, but I guess you’ll do.”</p><p>He’s not fooling anyone. They both know this. It must’ve been due to the mellowness that has settled and wrapped itself around his joints, but Tetsurou doesn’t point out his blatant lie.</p><p>He reaches out for the glass before it is offered to him. Maybe as consolation from not poking sticks at Daishou’s lousy excuse, Daishou doesn’t object. He swiftly walks to Tetsurou’s side until he’s leaning against the balustrade.</p><p>They don’t speak. It felt like hours on Tetsurou’s ends, and in those alleged hours he remembers when Daishou first offered him a popsicle after a grueling volleyball training session. It was summer then, too, but nothing about that meeting was similar to their current disposition aside from their side by side presence. Sea salt popsicles became champagne and the goal of reaching nationals became taxes and office jobs and unsure reunions due to capitalism.</p><p>Even then, Tetsurou is stuck. Like admiring Daishou’s entirety is quicksand, stepping in without the knowledge that a shallow crush would turn into the complicated mess that is <em> whatever </em> could've happened between them.</p><p>There’s background noise from the ongoing celebration inside. Any more silence and Tetsurou might say anything uncalled for. He downs half of the drink before placing his glass on the balustrade.</p><p>“Mika-chan got the bouquet.” Awful conversation starter.</p><p>“Yeah. She told me so when I returned from the bathroom. She was shy about it, but blushing nevertheless.” Awful taste of regret on the roof of Tetsurou’s mouth. He has no one to blame but himself for that one, but he wills himself to think Daishou is aware of his weakness and is exploiting it. He’s always been good at that, on court and off it, no doubt he would use it here.</p><p>(He doesn’t manage to do so. He takes another swig.)</p><p>The silence that follows is buzzing. At the back of his head, Tetsurou acknowledges that this would be the ideal moment to confess. That all these years, there has been no one else but him, thanks to Tetsurou’s sick and twisted luck. That at some point, he knew that Daishou returned the favor—favor, favor, favor because he also acknowledges that he fell first; he calls it a favor because it’s easier to swallow and easier to leave behind, should he decide to move on with finality—before Mika entered the scene. Or was it when Mika temporarily left because of volleyball. Volleyball, the sport that brought him to the people whom he treasures and continues to do so for the years to come. Especially Daishou.</p><p>It sucks being twenty-seven when you’re filled with regrets that don’t even taste as bitter as any beverage Tetsurou has downed when nights felt lonely and angry. Twenty-seven and firsthand finding out that adulthood won’t magically cure your love life blues nor even give you a hint as to how to do so.</p><p>What he wants to ask Daishou: “Did you ever kiss Mika and see me as an afterthought? Have you ever considered me when she left you for the sport that brought us together in the first place? Do you think of our what-ifs as often as I do?”</p><p>“Daishou—” He turns to his right and is not able to prepare himself from the fact that Daishou is already looking at him, chin on palm and eyes on him like he’s the eighth wonder of the world. For a second, Tetsurou hesitates. It’s like facing a hitter who’s immune from his read blocking. Like a player not meeting your expectations so you can’t promote them to a higher ranking division.</p><p>Like Daishou is considering their <em>what-ifs </em> the way after years of wanting him to. Like he’s seventeen and all he can think of is facing off Nohebi and the satisfaction of getting a rise out of Daishou.</p><p>Because he knows, alright, that time is merciless and he’ll never get any younger, but the future is vast and unknowable and there’s the slim chance of a <em> them </em>in this universe.</p><p>The wonder in Daishou’s eyes slowly fades, however, like he’s given up and he’s done regarding Tetsurou. If Tetsurou asked now, he would get an answer he already knows and doesn’t like, so he lets it happen. He breaks eye contact first in the hopes of lessening the pain and licks his lips in defeat.</p><p>What he answers to Daishou’s unspoken moment instead: “Mika-chan should let me be her maid of honor.”</p><p>The possibility of them happening is gone and will forever stay dead from now on. This was the closure he never expected yet he’s forced to work with. Tetsurou can only be grateful that he saw it with his very own eyes.</p><p>“You…” The way Daishou’s breath catches makes him shake his head, amused, picking up his glass again, and drinking what’s left of it. “You would wear a dress, if ever. That’s what she would want.”</p><p>“I would rather wear a gown than be stuck in this suffocating suit and tie, thank you very much.” He says while he loosens his tie, leaning forward against the balustrade.</p><p>“You’re already horrible to look at, don’t scar our guests even more.”</p><p>“Ah, ah, contrary to your belief they would find your face concerning to look at, first and foremost.”</p><p>“Asshole.” Daishou spats before drinking from his glass. Tetsurou throws his head back to laugh.</p><p>Before Tetsurou could throw a quip—because banter with Daishou is one of the battles he’s well versed at, no matter who or where or how they are—Kenma calls his name, one hand holding the glass door open while the other holds his fully charged switch.</p><p>“I already told them we’re leaving,” he says before turning to Daishou. He nods at him before addressing him. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you. Might wanna say whatever you wanna say now.”</p><p>How he said that with weight that suggests they’re never going to get a chance like this ever again makes Tetsurou scratch his nape. While he’s aware of how perceptive his best friend is, it’s at times like these where he’s subjected to it that reminds him of it most of all.</p><p>“I think I’ve said enough.” Daishou responds with equal weight. He picks up his glass and waves it near Tetsurou’s face as his way of goodbye. “See you around.”</p><p>“I’d rather not,” he counters, but it comes out weak. It slowly starts to sink in that there’s nothing else he can do about their <em> thing</em>, whatever that—not this, not anymore—<em>thing </em> was.</p><p>Kenma had to come out to the balcony himself to pull Tetsurou by the hand. He’s out of it even when he says goodbye to the newlywed personally and walks toward his car absentmindedly.</p><p>When he’s finally seated, Kenma speaks up while managing his seatbelt. “I saw you two before I disturbed you.”</p><p>In a daze, he leans back before turning to face his friend. “Huh?”</p><p>“You guys needed to talk so I didn’t call your attention the first time, although judging from the lack of tears and the creasing in between your eyebrows,” Kenma looks at him before reclining his seat until he’s comfortable with it. “You just look tired. You guys didn’t get the chance to talk? Did I interrupt anything?”</p><p>Tetsurou closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “There was nothing to talk about.”</p><p>Tension wafts in between and around them no longer, only the suffocating silence in Tetsurou’s car subjecting them to the reality that grieving over their festering love lives is the only thing they can do from now on.</p><p>“He did like you at some point.” Kenma decides to break the silence with violence as sharp as a knife’s, the faint background noise of Animal Crossing seemingly out of place in a battle about to manifest.</p><p>“Sure."</p><p>“I mean it. There was something mutual between you guys at some point.” Kenma sounds like he’s pressing his buttons a little harder. With the way things are, he’s also pushing nearly all of Tetsurou’s buttons attributed to patience.</p><p>“Like what? Like how you thought Keiji would take you back even after being with Koutarou for months?”</p><p>“I’m just saying,” Kenma’s voice is a little louder. “That something could have happened if you acted upon it.”</p><p>Tetsurou slams his hand on the steering wheel before thinking. “Can we please just drop this conversation? Fuck!”</p><p>So Kenma still isn’t over everything Tetsurou pulled earlier. His prideful, vengeful best friend has abandoned all options of peace and instead is running towards him with a knife pointed at the skin right where his heart is seated behind. And God, Tetsurou may be full of emotion and he’s so, <em> so </em> exhausted but he knows it’s his fault. Judging by the way Kenma didn’t flinch at his loud movement, it’s safe to say that he has expected him to react this much.</p><p>He doesn’t look like he’s saying anything anytime soon, however, so Tetsurou takes it upon himself to do so. He slowly leans forward and presses his forehead in between where he’s gripping the wheel tight and exhales. If letting him lash out is Kenma’s way of saying thanks after taking care of him when he got drunk on Hinata’s birthday, Tetsurou does nothing but accept it.</p><p>Tetsurou sits up when he feels more level-headed, grips the steering wheel tight one last time before turning to look at Kenma. When his friend shuts off his switch and throws an arm over his eyes, Tetsurou says, “We should get ice cream.”</p><p>Kuroo Tetsurou, twenty seven, is more than ready to take off his suit and sink under his covers. No more pretense and two left feet and anything else besides focusing on the present.</p><p>“Cookies and cream.” Kenma croaks out when Tetsurou starts the car.</p><p>“You’re saying that like, I don’t know, I haven’t known you for years.” He scoffs. He drives away with Kenma returning his energy and his regrets left where he and Daishou stood side by side earlier.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>dedicated to <a href="https://twitter.com/misawrld">sky</a>, the #1 kuroshou shipper i know, to <a href="https://twitter.com/NYAlTSU">le</a>, who always indulges me with my crazy ideas, to my besties <a href="https://twitter.com/kaisentwt">cheskaz</a> &amp; syd who yelled at me for this one, as they always do, and lastly <a href="https://twitter.com/DAZ9l">reyna</a>, who, also, yelled at me, but more recently</p><p>leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it!! yell at me n stuff :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>